


A Witcher and his kindred Bard

by AnythingEver



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Camarilla (Vampire: The Masquerade), Court Politics, I have no respect for anything whatsoever, Kidnapping, M/M, No beta we burn like Kindreds would if they weren't in this fic., Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnythingEver/pseuds/AnythingEver
Summary: Geralt is brought as a gift to an important lady. When a Witcher learns about the Masquerade, what could possibly go well?(Explanations about both verses in the endnotes, in case you are not familiar with them)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28





	1. A most unwelcomed gift

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny jumped on my lap and refused to leave. I have to thank LadyAhiru for her help in deciphering this. This will be updated weekly, but I might post more often if I can.

Geralt was fuming! He had not been three hours in Gors Velen before he had found himself ambushed, tackled to the ground, and his arms shackled behind his back. By whom, he couldn’t tell, but they were not members of the guard, and not bandits either if he could judge by their attire. Too well kept, too tidy. But they had managed to overpower him in a way that would have baffled him, had he not sensed the magic _dripping_ from them. They looked very human, though, but, well, with a little glamour, any magical creature could.

That had little influence on his present predicament though, that being him presently kept shackled in a room locked from the outside. He knew at least one of his attackers was guarding it. The room must have been part of a very elegant mansion from what he had gathered when he had been lead inside. He hadn’t seen much, as they had placed some kind of a fabric bag over his head. But the stairs he had climbed had been quiet under his feet, the sound of his steps muffled by the carpet.

Why was he kept here, he had no idea, and none of his captors had cared to explain. The only thing he heard from them was something along the lines of “I think she will be pleased. I think they will be pleased.” It was not addressed to him, and he had no idea who was she or they, and he wasn’t sure he particularly cared, as for now his main focus was to get himself out of this highly unpleasant situation. But as much as he could struggle, he definitely couldn’t free himself from the thick metal circling his wrists. So he had no choice but to wait for a better opportunity. For now.

***

They had come to fetch him, with strange looks in their eyes. Appraising. Admiring. He had growled when one of them had dusted his shoulder with a flick of his hand, but they hadn’t even acknowledged it. They were gleaming, and he could smell pride from them. This was confusing on all accounts.

“Come.”

He had little choice but to follow them. Should he feel grateful not to be lead by a leash?

They walked through corridors after corridors, descending stairs, and finally stopped before two great doors, behind which he could hear laughter and joyful conversations. One of his captors knocked on the delicately carved wood, which was opened soon after by an elegantly dressed, stern-looking man, who greeted the two men with a nod, before startling, and frowning, when he saw the Witcher. But Geralt’s captors didn’t give him time to ask any question before entering the room, which was indeed full of people. Geralt assessed about twenty of them, all grandly dressed. The Witcher growled. Had he been brought here as a fucking party favor? One of his imprisoners pushed him further inside, until the three of them reached a small group, in front of which his jailors bowed deeply. The first thing Geralt noticed about them was their incredible beauty. One tall man, wearing heavy elegant furs upon a blue jacket and leather vambraces, who Geralt guessed was some kind of a warrior. Another man, looking quite regal in a richly ornamented blue doublet. And one of the most gorgeous women he had ever set eyes upon, clad in a deep purple gown embroidered with gold, whose hair was crowned with roses.

The second thing he noticed was the whiteness of their complexion.

“Your Highness, with your permission, we have brought a gift for our most honorable guest.”

Geralt felt a strong pressure on his shoulder against which he couldn’t fight, and he fell to his knees. The room was now completely silent. Geralt glanced at the trio. The warrior displayed every sign of a carefully contained fury. The lord-like frowned deeply. The woman had opened wide eyes. The smell in the room was— What was that? Stupor? With a note of fear?

“Most Gracious Lady, allow us to present you the Witcher Geralt of Rivia, brought here as a gift from the clan Gangrel, for your very own pleasure.”

Geralt snarled at that introduction. He _was_ a fucking party favor. And he didn’t like any bit of it.

***

Amanda had been enchanted at the perspective of this trip to Gors Velen. A change of scenery couldn’t harm, and she had always enjoyed the court of Prince Brent Joris. True, she wasn’t a frequent visitor, but one could not really expect an Elder to travel every other decade to another kingdom. Her Prince and herself had agreed, though, that it was a good idea, since they had diplomatics to discuss, and it would be impressive enough that an Elder would bother with such a trip for Prince Brent to feel flattered by it and agree on some delicate matter with his powerful neighbor.

She had left the luxuries of Novigrad for the smaller praxis two nights prior and was now enjoying the lovely conversation of the prince, and of Elder Paddy Horan from clan Gangrel, while sipping an exquisite wine in her delicately chiseled crystal glass.

A distraction arose when three men that she did not recognize entered the coziness of the Elysium. She raised an eyebrow when she realized that one of them seemed bound with his arms behind his back. She raised it higher when she understood that this was no Kindred. And then, she heard the most extraordinary thing.

She blinked. Twice. Completely dumbfounded. Her eyes traveled slowly from each of the Neonates to the Witcher, who seemed less than happy about the whole situation. The silence in the room was deadly.

“I am sorry. You brought… A _what_?”

The one who answered her looked very pleased with himself.

“A Witcher, Most Gracious Lady. And not any Witcher, but the White Wolf himself!”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She turned towards Prince Brent.

“I beg your pardon Your Highness, but is this perfect example of stupidity a genuine sample of the whole court of Gors Velen? Or are those two specimens museum-worthy one-of-a-kind gems of idiocy?”

Only silence answered her. The smiles on the two Neonates’ faces faltered.

“Let me get this straight, continued the elder. You brought a Witcher, shackled, in the middle of an Elysium full of Kindreds, among whom a visiting Elder, and this is supposed to be a present for me? ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?!”

Later that night, the prince, Elder Horran and the keeper of the Elysium would all agree that the acoustic was terrible in the Elysium, which had allowed the voice of their guest to resonate such that almost everyone could have had sworn that they heard her yell. Which she most definitely hadn’t, since it would have been a violation against the most sacred rules of the Elysium.

“I do not know what offends me more here, whether it is that you thought that bringing a monster slayer here would be a good idea, or that I would enjoy it as a gift.  
\- My Lady—  
\- Silence! How dare you talk back to an Elder? Are you so uneducated? How are we to deal with this lovely situation that you created, now?  
\- … We could— We could have him… Dispatched…”

If it was possible, the silence fell heavier.

“You are not only stupid, but you are also careless of your humanity. I beg His Highness to deal with you in a way that will prevent me from the displeasure of having to lay eyes upon you again. For now, _your most unwelcomed gift_ will be brought to my chambers. And no one is to lay hands upon him. I hope that my word will be respected.” She demanded, her voice strong and not leaving any room for doubt.

No one dared to utter a word as she stared the room down. She walked out in a regal pace, radiating of dangerously contained wrath.

***

Geralt had no clue as to what exactly had just happened, but the scene had had him tensed in many unpleasant ways. Two things though he understood. One, that he had been close to dying. Two, that the lady to whom he had been offered wanted to keep him alive. For now.

After she had left the room, an elegantly dressed man had come to him and bowed slightly.

“Master Witcher, I’m afraid I can’t help you stand up, but if you’d follow me, I will escort you to Elder Amanda Taran’s rooms.”

He raised an eyebrow. She had ordered that no one would touch him, and they all very obviously intended to obey her. With a little effort, he raised from his kneeling position and proceeded to follow him, noticing in the corner of his eye how his cowering jailors were trembling under the furious gaze of the two seemingly powerful men that remained from the small group.


	2. Confusing explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ever so sorry for the delay, I know I am two weeks late :'( I shall do better in the future.

It was quite a strange thing to travel again through the mansion, still bound, to another unknown location, following someone once again, a someone holding a very ugly vase under his arm. But strangely enough, this time, Geralt was a tad less worried. Wherever he was going, it seemed to him the one leading him, and the one waiting for him, meant far less harm to him than his previous captors had. The lady had, after all, ordered that no harm was to be done to him. And she definitely did not had looked like she intended to hurt him herself. The way she had spoken, the way those around had been stunned in silence, the way some of them had cowered under her words and gaze, it didn’t take much effort to figure out that she was not one to be trifled with, and that no one would dare to cross her by hurting him. So, even if he was still alert, he was, indeed, far less worried than he had been before.

Soon, the man he was following knocked on a white wooden door which he was soon invited to open. He remained on the threshold, though, bowed deeply, and announced.

“Your Grace, the Witcher is here for you.

\- Thank you, Keeper.” Answered the pretty irritated voice inside. The man stepped aside to let Geralt in, before holding out the monstrosity of a vase in front of him.  
\- His Highness also would like your grace to accept this token of respect. He’s asked that you would be made aware that it is the ugliest vase that could be found in the house.

\- Well, thank His Highness for his kindness toward me. Assure him that it is much appreciated.”

The lady flicked her hand and one of her servant girls came to get the vase. The man bowed again and left. The servant girl closed the door behind him, and brought the obnoxious vase to her mistress, presenting it to her with a curtsey, before putting it on the table next to her.

“Thank you. Leave us for now.” She eyed the vase with a nod of her head. “Be back when you hear the noise to clean it up.” Another curtsey and the young girl disappeared.

Geralt frowned at that last comment. But he didn’t have much time to worry before the lady approached him.

“Master Witcher, I am deeply sorry for that unfortunate series of events. I beg you to accept my most sincere apologies.”

Geralt grunted non-commitally. He was not especially mad at her, but the whole situation was as annoying as it was ridiculous. And he was still bound. She seemed to take notice of his predicament because she frowned.

“I see they have been too respectful of my orders. Well, if you’ll allow me…”

She circled him and he felt two very cold hands against his forearm. He heard the metal shatter. And just like that, he was free. She casually threw the shackles aside.

Geralt was dumbfounded. No matter how hard he had pulled, he had only managed to bruise his wrists. How could she have done that? She didn’t look particularly built. But his medallion had been vibrating ceaselessly since that fateful evening, so magic must have been at work here. Still, he was surprised. What kind of magic allowed this level of force?

“There, better. Now I will ask you for just a moment…”

With graceful hands, she grabbed the ugly vase and held it above her head, before throwing it violently on the floor. The porcelain shattered in thousands of sad colourful pieces. Not a moment later the maid from earlier reappeared with a dustpan and a brush. Ah. The noise.

The lady sat down with an elegant poise in a warm velvet armchair.

“His Highness was kind enough to send me something to take my frustration out, and delicate enough to send an ugly one, so as not to add to my frustration by breaking something beautiful.” She commented with a flourishing wave of her arm to invite him to take a sit in the other armchair facing her.

“Now, Master Witcher, I have once again to apologize for the acutely unpleasant predicament you have found yourself into. Rest assured that the culprits will be punished.”

She took a crystal cup filled with a red liquid from the table by her side and brought it to her lips.

“I am sorry for not offering you some refreshments”, she said after drinking a few sips, “but I’m afraid we did not expect your kind tonight, and have nothing around that could suit you.”

The Witcher raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Maybe I’ll have what you’re having.”

She laughed a lovely laugh.

“My dear Witcher, the night you drink what I’m drinking is the night I can order you around. I don’t think you would want that.”

He tensed. What he was gathering from the situation so far could not be qualified as pleasant. The woman did not seem threatening, but he knew that, should anything occur, he was outnumbered, and maybe even, if he was to believe her surprising display of strength, outpowered. So staying wary might be a matter of life or death at this moment.

She sighed.

“I do not think you understand the situation quite comprehensively, and maybe it is for the best. But I have to admit, Master Witcher, that even the little you have seen so far is rather endangering to my kind.”

She did not give him time to protest or even get angry.

“But rest assured that I can, and will, promise you that no harm will come to you. Not from any of us anyway.”

She smiled a sad smile.

“I do not expect you to believe my word of course. But it has weight around here. And for now, it will have to do. Now, the matter is that though I do not want you harmed, I cannot very well release you in the wild, having witnessed one of our gatherings, and knowing its location. It would be a danger to us, and it might prove a danger to you. If not today, maybe in a decade or more. It is too high a risk, one that I am not foolish enough to take.

But on the other hand, I am sure you’ll agree I cannot very well keep you by my side eternally like a… Glorified pet or something. It would be most unpleasant. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy your company,” she added with a seductive glance, “but I generally prefer the people around me being… Willing… to be there.

So, I have to ask you… What do you suppose we can do about this whole matter?”

Geralt was not exactly pleased at everything that was happening so far. And he was not sure he had much to offer to make it better. But he needed more information, and he was starting to feel annoyed at the lack of it.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Right. I should have begun with that. And I guess it is a bit late to be prudish about it.” She answered with a sigh. “I cannot tell you much, and you wouldn’t understand much of it anyway. But my name is Amanda Taran, from the court of Novigrad. Visiting the court of Gors Velen both on official and private matters. Though that last one might well be canceled after tonight’s events.” She concluded with a bit of irritation.

The Witcher hummed in answer, slightly annoyed.

“You talk of your kind. What kind is this?”

She smirked at him, tilting her crystal glass where the red liquid was dancing.

“Surely you might have some idea about the matter, now.”

The smell was unmissable. He stiffened.

“Vampires.

\- We do prefer to be called ‘kindred’ if you please. Now, I’m afraid we are no closer to solving this matter. So, what do you propose we do?”

Truth be told, Geralt had nothing to offer, but he was getting close to tell her to fuck off at this point, no matter how unwise this might have been. He did not exactly appreciate being kept against his will, especially not by a bunch of powerful bloodsuckers. But that was the biggest problem once again. The bloodsuckers _were_ powerful. And he was no fool.

Just before any unpleasant word might find its way on the tip of his tongue, the servant girl came in once again, curtseyed, and announced.

“Your Grace… Neonate Jaskier is here, and asks for the favor to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She feeds on blood, I feed on comments ^^


	3. Enters Jaskier

This was definitely the last name Geralt had expected to hear at this moment. His head whipped toward the door, eyebrows shot high in surprise, as indeed a very familiar blue silk doublet bowed deeply.

  
"Most Gracious Lady!" Did he greet with an obvious fondness in his voice. 

  
The Vampire had jumped from her seat, crossed the room in a few strides, and thrown her arms around Jaskier's neck.

  
"Oh Jaskier! My love! Most precious Childe!" She exclaimed between resonating kisses all over his face. "Oh, how I've missed you!" *smooch* "My dearest heart!" *smooch* "Most beloved comfort of my unlife!" *smooch* "How perfect that you are here tonight!" *smooch smooch*

  
The bard was holding her in his arms, receiving her embrace patiently and rubbing soothing circles on her back. But his eyes had landed on Geralt, and he was holding the Witchers surprised look with an apologetic one. Suddenly, Geralt heard the bard's voice distinctly in his head, though his lips never moved.

  
_Don't say a word, please, I'll explain._

  
When the Vampire finally let go of the young man, Jaskier turned his looks and all of his attention to her, as if Geralt had not even been in the room. The Witcher wasn't really sure why he was finding that upsetting. But he felt like following the advice given might be as good a plan as another right now. At least someone had something to offer, even if that someone was surprisingly Jaskier.

  
"Most beloved Sire," he declared, "had I known sooner you were in this dire praxis I would have come earlier to bath in your unfaltering beauty and wisdom! But your most dear presence has only been just brought to my knowledge, and so you must forgive this undeserving childe of yours for only now deposing his respects at your feet!"

  
The Vampire smiled fondly, and Geralt fought not to roll his eyes.

  
"You are most forgiven, warmth of my heart. And you are most certainly god sent at this hour, for you will never believe what those insufferable pompous asses of Gangrels have done this time!" She waved a hand at Geralt, who instinctively rose up from his seat. "Lo and behold, dear Childe, Geralt of Rivia, Witcher of his state!" She declared dramatically. Jaskier gave him a little bow, his face betraying no recognition. Whatever game he was playing, Geralt felt like he'd better play along, and answered his greeting the same way. When Jaskier talked, it still wasn't to the Witcher.  
"Most adored Sire, I'm afraid I don't understand how a Witcher of all people, your most gracious self and the Gangrels connect...  
\- Well, can you imagine dear Childe that these primitive idiots have had the grand idea of gifting me a Witcher?"  
Jaskier blinked, twice. Geralt considered the gesture, that he had seen earlier, the exact same gesture, with the exact same air, on the Vampire's face.  
"I am sorry... what?  
\- The Gangrels have taken it upon themselves to capture a Witcher, bring it into the Elysium, and serve it to me almost on a silver platter!  
\- Most darling lady!” Jaskier sounded shocked. “I cannot believe Elder Horan could have lacked that much judgment--  
\- No. Paddy Horan is many things but an idiot is not one of them. I do not think he had a hand in this. But the problem remains the same. What am I to do?” she asked anxiously.

Jaskier took the time to lead the Vampire back to her armchair before answering. He sat down himself by her side, on another comfortable velvety seat, never letting go of her hand, that he stroked gently. Geralt had resumed his own seat, and was quietly witnessing the interaction. He was surprised to admit, it seemed like _Jaskier_ had a plan.

“My beloved Sire, it is indeed quite a worrying situation we are finding ourselves into. But I may have an idea to offer.”

The Vampire looked at him expectantly.

“I am, as you know, a traveling bard, chanting songs of epic from kingdom to kingdom. My lifestyle is very much suited to that of a wandering monster hunter, don’t you think? And my youth makes me well acquainted with the ways of the mortal world, too.” He paused, as if to let simmer what he was preparing to say. “You could release the Witcher in my care. I could make sure nothing unfortunate happens, be it for him or for us, and no one would suspect a thing. The Masquerade would be well guarded, I’d give it my word.”

Something uncomfortable settled in Geralt’s stomach, as well a hint of relief. He tried his best to ignore those feelings for the moment, tensing as his fate was being decided in front of him, without him having any say in the matter.

The Vampire looked relieved all of a sudden.

“Oh, dearest comfort of my unlife! You are putting such a salve to my poor mishandled heart! Of course this would be the perfect solution! But it would also be such a burden… Well, you would get the rightful retribution for your troubles, don’t you doubt it. From me, first, and from Paddy and His Highness. I’ll make sure of it. We will immediately meet with the Harpyes, everything will be set. You are saving us all, I won’t accept less than a major favor from each on your behalf! No, Jaskier,” she insisted when the bard started to protest, “I insist! It is the least they could do with the way you are going to save this boorish court’s face, and protect the Masquerade.  
\- My Lady, I’d suggest, though, what we’d wait tomorrow to let our request be known. We wouldn’t want them to think the matter had been sorted so easily.  
\- You are, happiness of my heart. Let them simmer a bit, and rather tell me all about what happened since the last time we met.”  
Jaskier glanced uncomfortably at the still silent Witcher. Did he know what Geralt was thinking?

_Do not worry, please. I’ll explain, and everything will be alright. Please do trust me._

He once again heard in his head. As much as he was annoyed, there was here a glimmer of a solution that was much less uncomfortable than the alternative given earlier, to either die or serve as a glorified pet for an immortal bloodsucking creature.

“My darling Lady, wouldn’t we be more comfortable only the two of us? I am sure the Witcher would appreciate some rest as well.” And the way he looked at the woman in front of him made something very unpleasant stir inside Geralt. He might have had no clue of what was going on, but the perspective of Jaskier spending the night in the company of that insanely beautiful woman made him surprisingly unhappy. He said nothing though, when she looked at him, almost as if she only remembered now that he was in the room as well.

“You are right once more, most beloved Childe. Go and fetch Suzette. We’ll have him settled for the night, and then,” she said with a seductive smile, “we can talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Witcher: a medieval fantasy verse where monsters are hunted by mutated men called Witchers. It is their job, they are paid for. Badly. The world is prejudiced against them. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, is said to be the best of them. He is followed in his adventures by Jaskier, a bard who has made it his duty to improve the Witcher's reputation.
> 
> Vampire the Masquerade: Vampires, or Kindreds as they call themselves, are hiding in the night, where they control the whole mortal world, unbeknownst to it. They are strongly organised. Two factions, or sects, fight for dominance: the Camarilla, and the Sabbat. Members of the Camarilla strive to maintain their Humanity. The Sabbat is more religious, and violent in its ways.
> 
> Kindreds are divided in clans, each clan with its own malediction. The Camarilla's territories are called Praxis, which are ruled by a Prince. Each Praxis has one most sacred place called the Elysium, with strict rules to ensure everybody's safety. The Camarilla is very respectful of age status. Neonates are young Kindreds, whereas Elders are old, respected ones.
> 
> The Camarilla is ruled by sacred Traditions, of which the first one is the most important. It's the Masquerade: Thou shall not reveal thy true nature to those not of the Blood.
> 
> More information on this lore will be provided in each chapter if needed. Don't hesitate to ask questions in the comments.


End file.
